In the moonlight, Thomas looked at his wrinkled face. Up close, Richard looked even more terrifying.
"Everything you did was of your own will, so don't you dare make excuses…"
"I'm not saying I'm innocent, Thomas…"
"You'll burn in hell," Thomas replied and turned away. Richard held the knife in his hand, watching as Thomas knelt beside his mother's body. Richard moved closer to them.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. One, and then another.
Thomas stood up. Richard dropped the knife and collapsed to the ground.
Thomas knew what everyone would think—that Richard had just tried to attack him with the knife. But Thomas knew that wasn't true. Richard had likely intended to use the knife on himself or was merely waiting for the cops to arrive and shoot him. Thomas was sure it was part of his plan.
"He really wasn't going to kill me, " Thomas thought. "If he'd wanted to, he would have done it long ago without hesitation."
One bullet hit Richard directly in the heart, killing him instantly. He didn't even have time to say a word.
People began approaching Thomas, still holding their weapons.
"How are you, son?" asked a man in his fifties with a black mustache.
"I'm fine," Thomas replied. "Who called you here?" he asked, glancing at Richard's body sprawled on the ground.
"A girl named Molly," the officer suddenly replied. Thomas looked at him in surprise.
"She said she wanted to visit you, but when she saw you with that man, she immediately realized something was wrong and called the police. We arrived just in time," he added.
Thomas didn't want to explain anything. He kept staring at the body of the man—the man who had taken so many lives, who had killed his mother, Carol,Taylor, and many others unknown to him. The man who had tried to kill him with a poisoned knife. The man who had caused him so much suffering and self-torment. Now, he lay dead before him, unable to harm anyone anymore. But did it matter to Thomas now? He had no one left—he was completely alone.
Thomas turned away and suddenly heard a voice.
"Thomas!"
It was Molly. She was running toward him, tears streaming down her face. She hugged him and began to sob.
He pulled her close and said, "Calm down, Molly. It's all right." But was it really? Of course not.
She let go of him and wiped her tears.
"I'm sorry. I was just so worried about you."
Suddenly, she noticed the man's body being carried away. She covered her mouth with her hand and was shocked to notice another body.
"Who is that?" she asked, fear in her voice.
Thomas placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You should go, Molly. I don't want you to see this."
She looked at Thomas, sensing his unease. She was frightened.
"What happened here?"
"Something terrible, Molly."
When she left, Thomas approached the officer.
"I want to bury her properly," he said without any emotion.
The officer looked at him, seemingly unaware that the woman was his mother and that she was truly dead. He silently gestured for one of his subordinates to help with the body.
"I'm sorry," the officer said softly.
After saying some words to his mother and burying her in the same cemetery as Carol, Thomas went to the girl's grave. A wooden cross bore her name.
"He is dead, Carol. That man is dead. But I didn't kill him. I couldn't. He begged me, but I couldn't do it. You wouldn't be mad at me, would you, Carol? You wouldn't, I know. I couldn't be like him. That man wanted me to become a murderer. That's what he wanted."
"Did my burden lighten? I don't know, because now I'm completely alone." He was silent for a moment. "But I'll stay here for now, Carol. I don't think you'd mind. I don't want to be weak, broken by problems. I must stay strong. But one day, I'll be there with you. Just not yet..."
He walked down the hill.
Later, he went to the station. Thomas didn't want to explain everything, so he agreed to the version that the killer was his neighbor—a man who attacked him, killed his mother, and tried to kill him too. But at the last moment, he was saved.
"If you need help with anything, let me know," the officer said, placing a hand on Thomas's shoulder.
"I'll manage," Thomas replied.
It was nighttime. Thomas couldn't sleep. He sat on the couch, thinking about what he had told Carol. He didn't even know what was driving him to keep going. The pain was unbearable, and he allowed himself to feel it.
Afterward, Thomas wiped his face of tears and lay in bed. He tried not to think about what had happened and seemed to fall asleep. But this time, he dreamed of his mother. She smiled at him and told him everything would be fine.
He woke up, breathing heavily. Did his mother know she would die such a death? Of course not. She couldn't have guessed. It all happened so suddenly. Even Thomas couldn't process it—rather, he didn't want to. But he had to hold on.
Since then, Thomas visited his mother's and Carol's graves every day. A year had passed since his mother's death.
Thomas sat on a bench near his house—the same bench where he had sat when he heard his mother's screams. It all felt like a horror movie. Thomas tried to think about it less, so he got a job as a food delivery worker.
That was a tough time. Everyone asked him what had happened, sympathized, and offered help. But he got through it. Now, he sat on the bench, holding a cigarette. Thomas rarely smoked but couldn't fully quit. In moments of despair, he turned to it.
Since that time, no one had visited him. The last person was his father, who came to his mother's grave and asked if Thomas needed financial help. But Thomas refused.
Molly had moved to another city. When she last saw Thomas, a year ago, she urged him to hold on and said she'd write to him if needed.
Thomas had held on for a year. Sometimes, he felt he could live a normal life. But memories always haunted him, bringing back the pain, and he'd sink into sadness and disappointment.
He finally finished his cigarette and stood up. Today was a day off, but even on days off, he sometimes had to work. Not today, though.
Thomas put the cigarette pack in his pants pocket. The weather was chilly, even though it was summer, so he wore a dark suit. He looked at the sky. It was covered with dark clouds—perhaps it would rain. Who knew? But what did it matter?
Exhaling deeply, Thomas was about to leave when he heard a familiar voice.
"Thomas..."
Startled, he turned around. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"John," he said quietly.